You Can Let Go Now
by pipilo
Summary: The word diplomatic seams to have a different meaning in Kirk's book and it involves phasers. Kirk and McCoy are on a dipomatic mission that soon goes wrong, causing problems for all. Friendship fic; Hurt!Jim; cleches; could be considered TOS.
1. Chapter 1

**You Can Let Go Now**

**AN: **Ok, here goes, I hope you like this new and (hopefully) improved version of the fic. I'm sorry for any mistakes but I still have no beta :( I'm all alone in the world.

Originally Beta'd by the brilliant **gernumblies**, who writes better stories than me. Go check her out.

**Disclaimer:** Paramount is God.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

Dust filled the air, swirling in the wake of all who ran in panic. It swirled within the already strained lungs of Doctor Leonard McCoy as he fled down the street. The acrid smoky air was choking but he made an effort not to cough, sure in the knowledge that once he started, he would not stop. The sun had become a burning red sentry in the sky, its diminished light defining the threatening loom of the grey structures to either side. His world had narrowed down to a few focused facts of which he was terribly aware: the blood roaring in his ears; the sound of his feet pounding on the pavement; the effort of each short gasp of air; the sweaty hand firmly clasped in his. All sense of direction had deserted him; he relied on his companion to know where to go. Screeches pierced the dust clouds and wrenched in his ears. It was disconcerting when a woman screamed right by his side yet he could not see her. He thanked a God he did not believe in for small mercies. If he could have seen her face, it would have made it even harder to stumble on past.

There was a tug at his hand and he span dizzyingly to the right. He stumbled but the slick hand in his did not let him slow. The red glow darkened and it seemed that he was leaving the screams far behind. His companion slowed and he followed suit, coming to a welcome stop. His body lost all ability to support itself and he collapsed backward. With a bruising impact, he came to rest against the wall of what his swimming eyes were telling him was an alley. He let his head fall back against the bricks, focusing only on drawing sweet air into burning lungs.

When he no longer felt his mind clouding over or saw his vision closing in, he turned to the side to check on his companion. Captain James T. Kirk was bent over, supporting his weight by hands resting on his knees. He was also panting although in an irregular rhythm. He had lost the battle against the smoke and was having difficulty breathing around his coughs.

"Jim."

He held his hand up while searching for the air to speak. "I'm alright, Bones." The doctor dropped his head again and the two friends stood quietly for a few minutes.

"Kirk to Enterprise." McCoy waited for the standard reply. "Kirk to Enterprise." Only static could be heard over the communicator. They shared a worried look. "Enterprise, respond please." The static continued to dance. "Enterprise, do you-"

"Face it, Jim. No amount of shouting's going to work," McCoy said, dangerously close to becoming a hypocrite by shouting himself.

"Looks like they've blocked communications as well."

"You don't say."

"This must have been planned months in advance."

McCoy slid down to the ground and patted the space next to him. "Come sit down." Kirk obediently folded his knees next to the doctor. "What a mess you've got us into this time, Jimmy boy."

"I didn't plant that bomb."

"No."

They both sat lost in their own thoughts. It was fair to say that the mission was not supposed to be going this way. It had been a simple meeting between the Mycus council and a Federation representative. There had been reports of 'unrest' on the Mycian planet but the Federation had been reassured that it was all cleared up now. The Federation were gullible idiots but the Admiralty did not see that. Jim Kirk had, but when the top dogs at Starfleet told you to go and represent the Federation, you went to represent the Federation. Even Jim Kirk could not have foreseen this. There had been no warning. They had been taking a short walk around the palatial gardens before the conference when it happened: the world around them erupted in sound and light. It was only while they were running that they realised the palace had been bombed.

"It's not over yet is it?"

"No, I'm sure that's phaser fire I can hear. We can't stay here, Bones."

The surgeon sighed and climbed back too his feet. "Where will we go?"

"I'm betting the communications block only covers the city. If we can get out past it, we can contact the Enterprise."

"Operation: city-escape," McCoy said dramatically, sweeping his hand  
through the air over the imaginary lettering.

The two friends joined hands before dashing back into the confusion of the main streets.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Sir, I'm getting unusual energy readings from the planet's surface."

"Specify, Mr Chekov," Spock ordered, turning the command chair to face the science station.

"The readings are coming from the capital city. The frequency is constantly modulating. I cannot locate the source of the emissions."

"What is the energy doing?"

"I don't know, sir. It is in a field surrounding the city." All eyes had strayed from their consoles to watch Spock and Chekov. "The field is not doing anything, just holding in place, like a shield."

"Lieutenant Uhura, contact the away team. Find out if they know anything about these energy emissions."

"Yes, sir," Uhura said. She turned to her console, one hand pressing her earpiece firmly into her ear. Everyone watched while she pressed several buttons. Eventually, she spoke in an apologetic voice. "The away team is not responding."

Spock pushed back a wave of emotion. He stood and approached the science station. "Mr Chekov, locate the landing party."

The silence was solid and tangible when Chekov exclaimed "Chort!"

"Pavel!" Uhura hissed in surprise.

Chekov shot her a sheepishly apologetic look then addressed Spock. "I'm sorry, sir. Sensors cannot penetrate the energy field."

"Try a focused sweeping beam."

"I have, sir. It won't work."

Spock went back to the command chair and thumbed the intercom down. "Bridge to engineering."

"Scott here, sir. What canna do for you?"

"We need extra power to the sensors."

"They're working at full capacity already, Sir. I could fire up the thrusters and divert the power. I canna tell you how successful it'll be though."

"Do it, Mr Scott."

"Right you are, sir," Scotty said before disconnecting.

"Sir, sensors have been boosted," said DeSalle at the engineering panel.

"Try again, Mr Chekov."

"It's not working, sir. The sensor beam is being dispersed."

"Lieutenant Uhura, get me the Mycian palace."

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

There were fewer screams now, although there remained a low murmur from further away. When screams were heard, they came all at once from one place as if hell itself had split open and all its demons were devouring a great feast of people.

It was not difficult to keep running forward. The challenge for James Kirk was to keep his feet under him as the crowd swept him along. If he was to lose his footing and go down he would be devoured by the stampede of humanity. The world was just one great crowd with the same purpose: to run. The doctor's hand was a lifeline to the Captain; his only remaining link to sanity in the hysteria.

He heard a scream behind him, closer than before and turned to look. The current nearly swept him under, only the tugging at his hand kept him going. There were more screams but this time, he just kept on running. It was difficult to draw in enough of the acrid air. His legs burned with the effort of running without oxygen; his lungs burned with the effort to supply them. He wanted to call out to ask if McCoy was alright but the words refused to come.

There were screams from all around, final cries of individuals condemned as a multitude. The crowd thinned as people fell away. Kirk did not have time to glance around to determine their fate.

A green bolt of energy flew over his head. He could hear the air sizzle and crack as it ripped through. He could feel the heat on his skin. A woman just ahead jerked with impact, glowed green, fell. Kirk leapt over her body before registering what he had seen.

The crowd was being murdered. Someone was attacking them with focused energy weapons. In the panic, they were being picked off one by one and Kirk found himself in the middle of a massacre.

As more people fell, he could see the road ahead more clearly. A new energy which seemed to come from the air itself urged him on. He pulled the doctor along and pushed his way through the fog.

He could now pick out individual footsteps behind. Were they frightened just like him, running in fear for their lives? Or were they pursuing with the intention to kill? He did not know. He did not want to know. He ducked and weaved around the energy beams in a kind of unconscious dance. He dragged McCoy after him, desperately hoping the doctor was still dodging fire behind him.

A hiss to his right gave him a warning of nanoseconds but no one could say Captain James T. Kirk did not have lightning reflexes. He dived to the left. The beam grazed his arm, leaving a shallow burn and a nauseating smell.

"Jim!"

This time there was no warning. He saw the flash before he felt it. His left shoulder was punched forward with explosive force. He pitched forward. He cried out with all the power left in his exhausted lungs.

The world exploded in pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **The differences in this version of the story will get more obvious as we go on. Thanks to all of you who are still sticking in with me. Please tell me what you think of these changes I'm making. P.S. Still no beta :'(

**Disclaimer: **Paramount is God.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"There's still no response from the planet's surface, Sir."

"Lieutenant, see what you can pick up on intra planetary comms."

"Aye, Sir."

Spock moved round the back of the bridge to the science station. "You have something to report, Ensign?"

"Yes Sir!" Chekov's enthusiasm caused Spock's eyebrow crept up a fraction. "Sir, I've been monitoring the life readings on the scanners and humanoid life is decreasing rapidly. The people are dying down there!"

"Check for instrument malfunction."

"Yes Sir!"

"Report, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Uhura removed her earpiece and swivelled her chair. "There is a lot of chatter on the intraplanetary comms but I can't make it out. I think it's in some sort of code. I'm currently trying to decipher it."

"Carry on."

With an unobtuse nod, she turned back to her communications panel. Spock stood with his hands firmly clasped behind his back, watching the planet below.

"Sir!" Lieutenant Uhura called. "I have an incoming is a message from the planet. It is being broadcast on all frequencies, wide beam, code red."

"On screen."

The lazily orbiting planet was replaced by an image of the Mycian Council chamber. Spock recognised the room from previous communications with the Mycians prior to the talks but he did not recognise the woman addressing the camera. The upper portion of her face was lined by age; the lower was hidden behind swathes of rough cloth. Her hair was similarly covered, although a few iron wisps escaped at the edge. Moving around behind her were other people, disguised in matching uniforms. There was another accessory common to them: they all carried laser or primitive phaser rifles over their shoulders. After glaring at the camera for just long enough to unnerve, the woman spoke: "I am Commander V of the Mycian Corps of Liberty. Mycia is ours. This planet and its people are now under our rule. Enemies of the Liberation will be destroyed. Resistance will not be tolerated. The time has come for a new, liberated Mycia." There were cheers in the background. "I have this message for all aliens. You have six chells to leave our system or we will see no distinction between you and the traitors to our cause."

The screen went dead.

"Six chells? But that's only fifteen minutes!"

"I am aware of that fact, Mr. DeSalle."

"But Sir, Mr. Scott took warp drive down for inspection."

"Another fact I am aware of Mr. DeSalle."

"But Sir, that means it will take the full quarter hour to get her running again and that's only if we do a rough job."

"Mr DeSalle!" The man sitting at the engineering station promptly fell silent. "I have no intention of abandoning the Captain and the doctor. We will remain in orbit until they are safely on board. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir!" Mr. DeSalle ripped off a textbook salute.

"Lieutenant, open a frequency to this Commander V."

"Sir," Uhura said over her shoulder, "I still can't break through to the surface."

"Mr. Spock, take a look at this," an enthusiastic Chekov said. Spock turned and activity on the main viewscreen caught his attention. From the surface of the planet, hundreds of small spacecraft were leaving. "They're fleeing sir. In any craft they have, they're running. What kind of a people run when their people are being massacred?"

"A sensible kind."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu for that insight. Please maintain orbit."

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

For some reason, when Jim Kirk woke up, he was expecting to see the white walls of sickbay, hear the thump of his heart monitor and have Bones frowning down at him. To his disappointment, only one of the three was present.

"Bones? Where are we?"

"In an abandoned house I found, there are enough about. They've already searched this area so we should be safe."

Jim took a moment to process this information. "Bones, why aren't we on the Enterprise?"

"What? Did you hit your head or something? We're stuck planet-side until we can get out of the city."

Jim frowned, sought for answers in his friend's face, failed. "Why?"

The doctor mirrored his frown. His hands reached forward and lifted Kirk's head gently off the soft cushion it had been lying on. "Seriously now, does your head hurt anywhere?" With one hand supporting the precious head of the Starfleet captain, the other ran all over it, seeking imperfections.

"Knock it off, Bones. I'm fine."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"I'm fine. See?" Kirk sat up and swung his legs over an edge which he was relieved was there. He went to stand from what was now obviously a Mycian bed but his old country doctor arrested his movements and pushed his back down.

"Just lie still a moment." Out of its smart black case came the medical scanner and it hummed quite happily over Kirk's body.

"Bones?"

The only response he got was the gentle palpation of his shoulder which somehow didn't feel right. He turned his head to look and was horrified by what he saw. That should hurt. The moment he thought it, his brain seemed to realise what an idiot it was being for not registering such an injury. 'Sorry,' it said. 'I'll try not to be so remiss next time.'

'That's ok,' he replied. 'we must be messed up to be talking to ourselves like this.'

"Jim!" McCoy gave him a shake.

"What?"

"Come on, Jim, focus."

"Huh? Oh yeah. Ow! That hurt."

"Humph!"

"'Humph?' What's that supposed to mean? _Ow!_"

"Stop being such a baby."

Jim didn't reply. Who could blame a guy for acting a little out of sorts when his shoulder was a charred mess. He didn't seem to have lost any significant chunks of flesh but the sight and smell was nauseating. "I hate lasers," he sulked.

"I know but I can fix you up when we get back to the ship. You just rest a bit then we'll see if we can get out of here.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

In a galaxy of intelligent humanoid life, spread over a multitude of class M planets, it was conceivable to expect to see spacecraft. In fact, it was quite normal for the emptiness of space to be not so empty. Particularly around major stars, where there were always space vehicles present; from runabouts to freighters with gravity fields of their own. In fact, ships on the main trading routes between Tellar Prime and the Jupiter Planitia shipyards were often restricted to sub light speeds due to the sheer force of numbers. Interstellar traffic was a very real inconvenience.

Having stated all this, it would come as a great surprise to any passing observer (to casually glance with the perspective of a god) to see the space around Mycia's great red sun. In the system of spinning planets and orbiting asteroids, there was only one artificial traveller in the skies. The only spacecraft in the area was the mighty Enterprise. Her great but graceful bulk followed the orbit of the fourth planet calmly, contrasting greatly to the atmosphere inside.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Is there any more word from the planet?"

"Mr Sulu, you have been on the bridge all this time so have been exposed to exactly the same information as I myself have. It is illogical to ask a question to which you already know the answer."

Sulu and Chekov exchanged a glance. They were both worried. The Enterprise had been in many tense situations over the years but what made this one worse was that there was nothing to do. Mr Spock had given no orders pertaining to the situation. He just stood serenely by the rail at the back of the bridge, his hands calmly clasped behind his back. It looked to the other, increasingly restless officers on the bridge that their commander was awaiting orders himself, inactive until spurred on by an absent CO. The six chells, although not measured accurately by anyone but the impassive Vulcan, seemed to stretch in length, longer and longer but always falling away. The rate at which they passed was slow but it could not be denied: they were disappearing.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** In this chapter you might start to notice the changes I've been making. Sorry to you Tarsus lovers out there but the flashbacks were unrealistic and I couldn't resolve them.

**Disclaimer:** All worship the almighty Paramount. They own everything, obviously, because if I owned Star Trek, there'd have been more hugging.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Sir, there's a Mycian ship rapidly approaching."

Spock did not need Chekov's warning, as the silver arrow-shaped ship was rapidly taking up more and more space on the viewscreen as it shot towards them at impulse. "Any sign of the away team's comm signals?"

"Sorry sir," Uhura said, "But I have the city under constant watch. The moment they appear, I'll see them."

The Mycian ship stopped suddenly, only a few kilometres from the Enterprise. The Mycians had no intergalactic conflicts, but this ship, whatever its original purpose, was obviously designed to double as a warship. Openings in the outer hull revealed the business ends of two powerful phase-cannons. A heavily armoured screen unfolded slowly over the deflector dish. The ship's power supply to the shields was unrefined, making them glisten a translucent blue. The distance between them was so small that from the bridge, one could see electricity arcing across the gravity bubble of the ship.

"Shields up," Spock ordered. "Hail them, standard frequency." Uhura tapped at the controls and the Captain of the Mycian ship appeared on the view screen. Spock began the standard greeting. "This is Lieutenant Commander Spock of the-"

"We will not accept your surrender," the Captain interrupted.

"You misinterpret the nature of this communication. I warn you, any act of aggression against a Starfleet-"

Once again, he was interrupted. "You are an enemy of the cause. Prepare to be destroyed." The viewscreen cut back to a view of space, in time to see the mighty phase-cannons power up.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Jim! Come on! We gotta move!"

Bones' voice was urgent. His grip on Jim's shoulders was hardly gentle. He was pulling the injured man up as he fervently whispered. "Come on! Help me out here, Jim." Jim Kirk found himself dragged onto his feet. He sagged against his friend but something of the urgency of the situation was getting through to him.

"Wha's happening?"

"They're searching the buildings. D'you hear me?" There was a rough lurch and Jim found himself fighting to keep his feet under him as he was pulled along. "They're here!"

Booted feet marched in the corridor. With a frantic tug, McCoy got them running to the window. It was not easy trying to climb through himself and when it came to helping Jim through, he thought it was all over, but the Captain of the Enterprise was a remarkable man. He managed to get into the direst of situations, but then he always managed to get out. With a great show of agility, he jumped, shot through and rolled onto the ground outside. His jump was accompanied by a loud bang as the door to the room they had just been in flew open.

If there was one thing that Doctor Leonard McCoy had learned while serving on the Enterprise, it was that when you got to the point were things could not possible get any worse, they invariably did.

He turned and helped his friend to his feet. There were shouts behind him as he settled Kirk's arm over his shoulders. There was a pull at his shoulder. Someone had caught hold of his tricorder. He strained against the restraining hand and heard more shouts. "I've got them! Go round the front." The glee in the voice was evident but the doctor had no intention of being captured. He shrugged the strap off his shoulder. A tricorder seemed a fair price to pay for their lives. The med-kit hit the ground with a sound of shattering glass. He breathed out a curse, scooped up the med-kit and ran.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Full power to shields."

A red light grew round the sides of the arrow shaped ship then shot forward to merge in the centre. As the light hit the phase-cannons, an arc of burning orange light shot out of each one, soaring across space. The Enterprise shook violently. Spock had to grab onto the back of the command chair. Yeoman Rand, who had been standing at the top of the bridge, was thrown to the floor. Sulu ran over to help her up.

"Shield status!" Spock shouted over the various bleeping from around the bridge.

"Shields holding."

"Weapons status."

"Armoury reports ready, sir."

"Load one photon torpedo."

"Torpedo loaded and set."

"Fire!"

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

He tried, oh how he tried to keep running, keep going but it was no use. He was too slow; relied too much on McCoy; was too exhausted. He knew the burden he was being to the doctor, he hated it, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The world rushed by, colours muted and sounds muffled. His mind flashed back a few hours. They had been running then, scared for their lives. People were screaming, falling, dying. Was he dying? He found in this haze when the enforced movement was his only constant that he could no longer tell the difference between memory and reality. His shoulder burned with an intensity that almost made him think he was still under fire. He could still feel the heat and see the light that impacted with such force. Lost in a layered world of reality and imagination, it was almost easy to continue stumbling in the direction he was pulled.

"Jim! Stay with me, kid. Can't you hear them? They're coming for us. You've got to stay focussed."

Yes, they were coming, always chasing him. There was no end to the running, running through life like a frightened animal. They were the predators and he was the pray. They never gave up. In his mind, Mycians became Klingons became Nero became Kodos became the memory of a father he had never known and who's shadow he would never escape from. The heat was clouding his thoughts and dulling his senses. He felt himself falling into the haze.

"For the sake of heaven Jim!"

He was pulled backwards, dragged painfully across an uneven surface. The light changed. Movement stopped.

When his head cleared enough for him to open his eyes, he could dimly make out the fire ramp they were sheltering under and the worried face of his friend.

"Just a little longer Jim, you've just got to hold on."

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

Spock dove into the battle whole-heartedly. He followed torpedoes with phasors, concentrating on one spot, battering down the enemy shields. A small part of him found some interest in the way the situation affected him. With no time to think, only time to act, adrenalin was high on the bridge and its Vulcan equivalent high in the Commander's blood. The Enterprise pitched and shook in response to the multitude of strikes that made up the Mycian's side of the battle. Spock kept his balance with only minor adjustments and calmly formed and executed a strategy all of his own.

"Fire all phasors, half power into the weak spot."

The crew was one of the most efficient in the fleet in such situations. The democratic atmosphere of the bridge had fallen away to a mechanical system of orders and actions. No one questioned any more. No one spoke. The air needed to be free of all chat for commands to be heard clearly and they were.

"Wheel in the direction of the next hit."

The ship shuddered and lurched. This time Sulu did not compensate and there was a definite pull to port.

"Open the emergency plasma vents on the starboard nacelle."

"Yes Sir."

"Open cooling valves; allow the coolant into the nacelle. Vent into space."

"Yes Sir. Nacelle cut off has engaged. Shall I override?"

"Negative. Wait for their shield status to stabilise."

A moment passed when neither ship moved.

"The Mycian vessel's shields had stabilised."

Load photon torpedoes.

"Loaded and locked."

"Fire!"

The arrow shaped ship crackled with light before loosing its glow and hanging still.

"Life support on Mycian vessel is failing."

"Life signs?"

"Thirty humanoid life signs clustered in vital areas of the ship."

"Lieutenant Uhura, get me the transporter room."

"Yes Sir."

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Hey Jim, what's up?" McCoy's voice was laced with concern.

Kirk stared at him a minute before replying. "Bones, aren't we supposed to be running?"

"We're just taking a short break."

"Oh."

They looked at each other. The captain's glazed eyes were not reassuring. He cocked his head as if listening to something beyond McCoy's perception.

"Are you in any pain?"

"Hmmm."

"Jim!" He clasped his friend's hand, drawing his wondering attention. "Are you in any pain? Are you experiencing any dizziness or light-headedness? Are you feeling disoriented? Are you sleepy? Do you remember where we are?"

Kirk gave a sleepy laugh. "Calm down Bones. I can remember and the pain's not so bad." The doctor took a deep calming breath. "I feel floaty. Should I feel floaty?"

"That's hardly a medical term," McCoy grumbled but he was obviously satisfied as he hauled his captain up by his good arm. "You tell me if you feel any worse, ok?"

"'K Bones."

Rolling his eyes, the doctor looked both ways along the street then took off in a sprint, encumbered by the weight leaning over his shoulders.

It was only about five minutes later that the Captain was struggling again. They had been keeping a reasonable speed in the direction away from the noise of laser fire. Fortunately, this was also the direction that would take them to the city boarder quickest.

"Bones," Jim gasped. "I need to stop for a moment. I can't keep this up."

"We can't keep stopping, it can't be far now. If they find us, we're meat."

Kirk tried to accept this. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the nauseating pain and swirling vision. Focussing on the here and now was getting more and more difficult. "Bones, I don't feel so great."

"A few more yards Jim. Just a few more yards and there's a hut where we can rest. I daren't go into these houses, not after they searched the last one. Just a few more yards."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Sorry the re-write has not been beta'd, I tried my best but mistakes may have slipped the net. I tried to focus more on the character's thoughts in this chapter so please forgive my use of spoken language as opposed to grammatically correct sentences. Believe me, it hurt to start sentences with 'and'. Having said that, I think this came out rather well, but what does my opinion matter? Read on and decide for yourself.

**Original B/N:** *sneeze* I have unofficially coined a title for this chapter. "Of Mouse Wee and Mycians". GCSE English Literature haunts me to this day

**Disclaimer:** Paramount is God.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

The thing was, when it came down to it, he was a doctor. A damn good one he liked to think, but he was also a person: a person with feelings; a person with friends; a person with feelings for those friends. A person just like any other person. So when it came down to it, it was not easy. It was not at all easy to watch his best friend dying. Being a doctor didn't help, not really. The man shouldn't be dying. His mind had run through treatment plans and protocols covering every contingency, but he was coming to the terrifying conclusion that a doctor was only as good as the technology, his instruments and tools. And they, they were on the ship.

The Enterprise, it seemed so far away, a distant world. It certainly was a different world to wherever Jim was now. And that was another thing which he just had to face. Jim had gone. There was no knowing where. He had gone, leaving Leonard alone. But that was ok, that was nothing new. Everyone he ever loved left him in the end. No! Don't go there Len, he said to himself. It was not ok. Jim had gone, and it was up to the doctor to get them both back home, at least in body if not in mind.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

The explosion of the Mycian ship could almost be described as beautiful. Her crew watched from the Enterprise's observation lounge as the powerful ship silently burst open into a brilliant beacon of light. White and yellow arcs of energy leapt across space and dazzling sparks danced into view. In a moment, it was over. The light cleared away, and where the proud sleek vessel had once been, there was only a cloud of lazily floating dust.

"Captain?" A human in a red shirt and tight black trousers approached Darja. He nodded his head solemnly and walked a little further away from his crew.

"I am Captain D6. What do you want?" He tried to sound confident, but being held on an enemy vessel, having watched his own ship being destroyed, did not put Darja at ease.

"Commander Spock wants to speak with you. Come this way."

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

Leonard's breath caught in his throat when Jim groaned and rolled his head off the ground. "Hey," he whispered softly. He was not acknowledged. He moved to sit up. Leonard helped him with an arm around his shoulders. Jim seemed disoriented, confused, but to the doctor, this was no bad sign. It could signal the break of the captain's delirium. With his tricorder smashed, he took out his chronometer with one hand and firmly pressed the fingers of the other to the wrist of his friend. One... Two... Three... he counted. It was only a rough estimation of rate but the beats were much too slow. Considering how hard he was pressing just to feel the man's pulse, his blood pressure was falling too. This was not good. He dug around in his med-kit but found only shards of plasti-glass and a brown chemical gloop congealing into a lump. They needed to move now that Jim had regained a semblance of consciousness, but he didn't want to risk his friend's already weak circulation. He glanced around for anything that could help. A pile of straw, a mouse nest which stank into space, a water butt... But yes! That mouse nest. He got closer, its acrid scent of urine filling his flaring nostrils. It could work, but then again it might not, and the thought disgusted him. Who knew what thrived in the pile of ends and dust. But they had to move, they really had to. He ripped off a portion of the nest and hurried back to his captain.

He must have drifted off again. It was not really surprising with the heat and his compromised physical state. He didn't think he had the energy to be surprised. Someone was propping him up and he shifted to take more of his own weight. "That's it," he heard in his ear. Cool water trickled at his lips and he began to gulp it down as if his life depended on fact. As if his taste buds were catching up with the rest of him and had just woken up, the taste hit him with sharp suddenness. He gagged and spat. It was poison! Rough fingers tilted his head back and tugged on his chin, forcing his lips to part. He found that he did not even have the strength to fight as the liquid both burned and soothed his throat in equal measures.

It hurt him, it truly did, to have to do this against his patient's will. He needs this, he kept saying to himself. This could save his life. It was not much of a reassurance when compared to the weak man in his arms, fighting the doctor's ministrations with all his remaining strength. It was just enough to give him the courage to ignore first the screams, then the moans and finally, the heartrending whimpers as he tried to medicate his friend. "A doctor should do no harm." Hah! That was a laugh. Here he was pouring water through a makeshift filter of a soiled mouse nest and down his best friend's (and commanding officer's, a little voice in his head reminded him) throat. Who knew what he was administering? If Spock were there, the automated know-it-all would rattle off the chemical composition of the urine of the common Mycian mouse. He might tell the doctor in his flat computer voice what deadly pathogens basked in the warm nests of the native rodentia. But Spock was not there. If he was to have Spock, he might as well have a full med-kit or even a full sickbay but wishing would not help Jim now. He just hoped that this would.

When the pressurised water bottle was empty, he wrung the sodden mess into Jim's now unresisting mouth. He threw the nest away into the furthest corner and gathered Jim close. With a hand settled across his jugular, he sat down for a wait.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

Darja admitted to himself that he was impressed by what he saw of the Enterprise. The corridors were spacious thoroughfares with plenty of activity, but not too crowded. The crew all wore the same basic uniform but their shirts were different colours. He saw blue and yellow, as well as the red worn by the guards flanking him. It was a strange thing to see the crew of a starship wearing bright primary colours. Perhaps it was an indication of rank. After all, the Lieutenant Commander Spock had worn a blue shirt. On the walls, there was a system of communication panels at regular intervals, a system similar to one he had spent years trying to convince the council to install, but of course, they had never listened to him. The warren of ladders was simpler than on his own ship, not that he had a ship any more. At the end of a twisting route he was walked to a door. He expected to have reached his destination but when the doors slid open (all by themselves) there was just a small cell behind. He was pushed in, and his red-shirted guards followed.

The door slid shut behind him. The cell was white and circular. It was so small a man could only just lie down. Near the door, there was one of the communication panels and at about waist height, around the wall, there were vertical bars arranged at regular intervals. Darja's heart hit a marathon pace. He did not like the look of the bare space and the clinical walls. His guards did not look at him but they grabbed one of the bars each and twisted.

With a jolt, the cell moved. He was ashamed that he let out a small squeak of terror, but then he regained his composure and shuffled over to cling onto a free bar. The pit of his stomach felt as if it were being driven into the floor by the upwards motion of the cell. He glanced at the guards and noted with relief that they were not in the least startled by events. He relaxed slightly but still clung on with both hands. The floor shuddered, and then everything became still. The guards took a threatening step forward. He took a step back and tensed. A whoosh behind him startled him and he spun around. The door had opened again.

Darja stared through the opening. Where the corridor had been but a few moments before, was a large circular hub of activity. There was no difficulty in recognising this as the bridge of the Federation Vessel. The bridge of the Enterprise reflected the grandeur of the whole ship. It was built with two levels, stations around the side, a console at the front, the command chair in its own well in the centre and a giant viewscreen over one wall. How magnificent and how efficient this bridge looked. A few people turned to look at him but none kept their gaze, all more interested in their tasks. Darja was awed by their devotion to their duties, by the way they were not fazed by anything out of the ordinary such as a prisoner being escorted to their midst. He was most curious about the gentle banter and chat held in low voices. If it were a Mycian ship, he would enforce discipline, remind them to stay professional but the friendly atmosphere did not seem to affect the crew's work.

He was led to one side and a door slid open, revealing a small office. He was escorted inside and left, facing the back of his previous opponent and current captor.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

He relished in the warm comfort he found himself in. He was surrounded by a soft orange glow. He was encased by a strong and warm cocoon. He was safe in this security and secure in the surety of his safety. His limbs felt heavy and he was content to limply lie in this place of blissful peace. His head was comfortably weighted. He rested it back against a firm but yielding surface.

Gradually, his senses sharpened and a heightened awareness came to him. The orange glow resolved to a dim light filtering through to his closed eyes. The warm cocoon sharpened to a warm body behind him and arms snugly encircling him. His head had fallen onto the shoulder of the one who held him. He lazily opened his eyes to an unremarkable view of a rough wall made of crumbling wooden slats.

"Hey there, kiddo." He felt the rumble of Bones' voice against his back. "You with me Jim?"

"Hmm," was all he said but it was enough.

"I thought I'd lost you there. Don't ever do that to me again."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **I stopped enjoying this story a long time ago and didn't have the motivation to write more. I have been aware that it remains on the story alert lists of a few people so my conscience is making me write this for you.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Star Trek or have any affiliation with the franchise or Paramount. I am making no profit from this.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Are all your crew accounted for?" The alien commander asked. Darja remained silent. He wouldn't give anything away. "Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do to make them more comfortable?" He remained silent, glaring at his captor's back. He knew this one, used it himself on occasion. The question seemed innocent enough, kind even, but if you could answer one, you could answer another and who knew where it would end. It was a gradual slope from these gentle inquiries to demands for classified intelligence. It was hard to draw a line, where to stop cooperating and start closing off. Sometimes, if the interrogator was very good, the subject would not even notice his descent into treason. No, Darja would not step onto that slope.

The alien turned to face him. Darja found it difficult to read his blank face, unsure if he read anxiety and impatience in his imagination or Commander Spock's eyes. Spock sat and motioned for Darja to do the same. His choice of seat was interesting. He ignored the one behind the desk and used the two in front. A desk between captor and captive is intimidating, obviously Spock hadn't given up on his game yet.

"You are aboard the Federation Starship USS Enterprise, under the command of Captain James T. Kirk. You have free access to all communal areas of the ship. You have the right to accommodation, security and healthcare. You will not be harmed in any way or forced to do anything against your wishes by Starfleet personnel unless such actions as are necessary to enforce Starfleet rules and conduct regulations. Starfleet rules and conduct regulations are available to you in written or spoken form and you have the right to seek advice regarding their application. These conditions and rights apply to you and your crew until transferred to a Federation starbase or returned to your own people."

Well that was new. Obviously they weren't Commander Spock's words, a standard statement. It sounded flat and was a little hard to believe. The alien commander took a PADD from the stack on the desk. It was obviously set up before Darja arrived. Spock poised the stylus. "What is your name?"

Ahh! Now it was coming. This he could do. "Captain D6."

"D6? Is that your real name?"

"No." Spock waited and Darja had to stifle a smirk. The commander was letting him control the situation.

"How many personnel were aboard your ship?"

"I have a crew of 48." He wasn't going to mention the three who had been working inside the shield generators when the battle had taken a turn for the worse. It wouldn't help them now and he wouldn't give Commander Spock that satisfaction.

"What is the objective of your organisation?"

"To free Mycia."

"What is happening in Mycus?"

"Revolution, liberation."

He hadn't been privy to the plans concerning Mycia's capital. He knew what they all knew: the resistance would be dealt with. He could imagine how it was being dealt with. Their methods might be brutal but it is easier to rebuild something when it has been destroyed. Few in Mycus saw the need for change. Force was necessary.

"I need more information. Our sensors report laser fire on the surface. Are the people in Mycus safe?"

What could he say? Nothing without giving anything away that he shouldn't. He certainly couldn't say what the alien wanted to hear.

"Please answer me. I need your help. Captain Kirk and our chief medical officer, Doctor McCoy are in Mycus. Are they safe?"

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"We need to move. We're not safe here." McCoy said, shifting the man in him arms.

"I'm not sure if I can manage that right now." Jim said with a small smile in his voice. The pain had returned like an old friend and like a friend, he let in in. It grounded him.

"Of course you can." McCoy hooked him hands under his friend's arms and hauled him up.

Jim closed his eyes and mouth tight until he was steady. "Ow, ow, ow, OW! I was comfortable."

"Yeh? Sorry kid." he didn't sound apologetic. "Let's go."

They lurched out of the hut and turned down the deserted road. The doctor had his arm around his captain, not quite holding him up but there if such support was needed. The houses were packed less closely together now and interspersed with wooden huts. It was a sign that they were nearing the city's edge. The long shadows cast by the houses were a sign that they had lingered too long. The air was still hot and the orange dust still swirled thickly. Kirk swallowed the impulse to cough. He looked down the road. In the poor visibility, there seemed to be no end. "Come on then," he said and took the first painful step.

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

"Your captain was on the planet?" Darja had assumed that Spock was in command of the Enterprise. It was a great ship and from what he had seen, Spock was a great commander. Captain Kirk must truly be something. He had felt the tension among the crew but had ascribed it to the recent battle and the prisoners in their midst. Now he wasn't so sure. He was not being treated like a prisoner. He imagined what it would be like to lose a captain in enemy territory, unsure what was happening to him. If Kirk was found, he would not be treated as a prisoner either. They probably wouldn't even know it was him. No one likes to look too closely at a corpse they have created.

"Yes. I am concerned about his and the Doctor's safety. Can you tell me what is likely to have happened to them?"

"They're dead." He hated saying it but it was most likely true. Aliens were not welcome on Mycia any more, and if they were in the capital? Well, if they weren't dead yet, they would be by morning.

Spock did not seem distressed by the news. His face remained as impassive as ever. "Are you certain?"

He hesitated. It'd be kinder not to offer false hope. "Yes."

"How can you be sure? Did you witness their deaths?"

This alien was persistent. "No, but there's not much chance of you finding them alive and the longer they're down there, the smaller that chance becomes."

"Then we will need your help."

_/st\_/st\_/st\_

It was a slow walk. They'd tried to run at first but had soon discovered that it was quicker this way. Kirk's injured shoulder was braced against McCoy's chest where he was held by his friend's strong arm around his shoulders. Neither of them spoke. The dust made it difficult and there wasn't much to say anyway. There was just one objective, one focus and no alternatives. There was no noise from the once bustling city. There was no sign of anyone this far out. The sun had sunk out of view but a dull orange light still shone over the Northern horizon. They had not left the road upon which their journey had begun. The major roads of Mycus were like the spokes of a great wheel and it was one of these the exhausted officers trusted to lead them to safety.

Doctor McCoy's chronometer showed a little under two hours to have passed since they had left the hut when they first saw their goal. White posts rose out of the ground as they approached the outer circle: a dirt track about fifty miles long which surrounded the city. McCoy pointed. "That's it," he said. "Look, we're almost there." Kirk lifted his head, brought out of whatever reverie he had fallen into. He didn't say anything but flashed a pained smile at the doctor. He stumbled, pulling McCoy to a halt. "We'll be home within the hour Jim. You just have to hold on a little longer." He adjusted his grip on the injured man, holding him a tighter and resumed walking.

They stumbled past one more last towering house then there were no more. The road turned away to the left and right, it's gentle curve hidden by the distance and low visibility. There was no outer boarder to this new road; the fine orange dust they walked on continued into the country. Tufts of spiky grey grass could be made out in the twilight as the road gave way to an alien moorland. One of the great white posts stood ahead and to their left. It rose about 60 ft high into the dark sky, the tapered end curving back the way they had come as if to embrace the city it stood to protect. For the first time in the longest day, McCoy smiled. It was over. They had made it.

"Hold on," he said cheerfully, "we'll just pop over the border then get you tucked into nice warm bed."

"Mmm, bed sounds nice," Kirk said, slurring from fatigue cause by his sudden relief. "I'll even let you read me a story."

"If you didn't sound so pitiable right now, I'd cuff you." "C'mon."

When he took a step Kirk groaned and buried his head again in his friend's shoulder. The doctor tightened his hold but kept moving. What did it matter now if he had to walk for both of them. The captain's breathing grew sharper and heavier. His eyes were screwed shut. He was walking backwards now, clinging as he was to the doctor's stained tunic. They were heading strait out onto the moor away from the city and the day's mad terror.

_Zap_

It was like walking into a wall of stinging bees, not that McCoy had ever done that before. For an instant, he could taste the ringing in his ears and hear the metallic tang of the blue light arcing above them. When the instant was over, he was on his back, still holding his captain who was moaning continuously now, rolling his head as if trying to escape his own body. "Shh... it's ok, We're ok." he panted. Kirk quietened so McCoy sat him up then stood to regard the now clear space in front of him. "Bones? What was that?"

He slowly expended a hand, fingered splayed to feel for obstructions. An unpleasant tingling vibrated up his arm and the view seemed to crack with little blue lights. His eyes followed the radiating light which stopped at the post. The post's base was large this close, large enough to hold "A damn field generator."

He punched the force field with anger, sending more lights into the sky where they could no doubt be seen by half of Mycus.


End file.
